The Strength of Gondor
by MornieGalad
Summary: Boromir's temptations to get the ring overcame him and Frodo couldn't resist him. How far will the son of Denethor go to save Gondor? If he comes home, will Denethor not know his son, as Faramir predicts? Read and review to find out. PG-13 for violence.
1. Default Chapter

**The Strength of Gondor**

_Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings. I only determine what happens in this story. I cannot claim anything else_

_Warning:Character death in the first chapter of this story. _

**Chapter One: A turn of the Fates**

Frodo's eyes were filled with terror as he gaze into mine. He didn't even move as I approached him, my right hand instinctively clutching the hilt of my sword. It s3emed as if the Hobbit was rooted to the soil. Then, unbidden, a small, golden object fell to the earth: the one ring. I lunged forward and grasped it in my hand. I placed it in one of my pockets, the only place I could think of to put it. Then it occurred to me that the Ringbearer was still present. I found him, exhausted, on the forest floor.

"Frodo, you will not regret this. After we go to Minas Tirith, I will return the ring to you."

"I know," Frodo sighed. He looked horribly fatigued, but he would be able to rest in Minas Tirith. As he rose, the Hobbit began to sway and I caught him in my arms.

"Let's return to the others," I suggested. Frodo nodded and, leaning heavily on me, headed toward the Anduin River.

When we returned to the camp, only Legolas and Aragorn appeared disturbed.

"Are you all right, Frodo," Aragorn inquired, eyeing me suspiciously. I'm certain this man will never fail to be more elven than human. He had distrusted me ever since we met in Rivendell. Now it seemed as if he had me cornered if Frodo said the right thing.

"I am fine. Boromir kindly came to get me, for I had strayed quite a distance."

"And what have you decided?" Gimli impatiently asked.

"We will go to Gondor to rest ourselves a while." The fear was obvious in his voice, but any inquiries were interrupted by a cry from Legolas.

"Orcs!" Frodo drew Sting and, indeed, the blade shone blue.

"Into the boats!" shouted Aragorn. As we scurried into the river, arrows rained down on us. Frodo let out a groan as one imbedded itself in his shoulder. I refused to flee after that.

"Turn around and fight," I cried to my comrades. In the darkness I could not tell whether anyone had obeyed my command. Then I heard Frodo's voice and the field was lit in a blue light. The dark minions charged and we answered their challenge. In the sea of enemies and blood, I lost sight of Frodo. I was swimming against the current of iron and war. My every breath summoned blood from another hideous body. This battle was for Gondor, although I was not with her; it was for Minas Tirith that I fought. My body never stopped slashing at the vile creatures, not even when their numbers thinned. Just as I thought the victory was ours, a piercing scream echoed overhead. Frodo screamed in pain a few feet away from me and I saw an orc preparing to slaughter him. I knew the only way to save the Hobbit was to put the ring on. Without a moment's hesitation, I snatched it from my pocket, thrust it onto my finger, and leapt at Frodo, shoving him out of the orc's path.

"Boromir!" he cried in shock, still clutching his left shoulder. "Boromir, take it off!" I barely heard his words through the loud projection of his thoughts. He couldn't stand the thought of me having the ring. He wanted it back. Not now, Frodo, I thought. It's mine. The screams seemed to be getting closer. From the sky, five huge beasts descended. One of them grabbed Frodo. I raced toward him, but Legolas and Aragorn forced the ringwraiths to retreat. Only after the enemy had left did I realize that sometime during the battle I had removed the ring and I was grasping it tightly in my left hand. I caught sight of Frodo, lying on the ground, a light in his hand, and rushed to his side. The ringbearer was soaked in blood from the fell beast's claws. His blue eyes met mine with great urgency.

"Keep it safe," he breathed. Then his eyes closed and the breath of life abandoned him.

"Frodo," I whispered his name, drawing his lifeless form into my arms. I felt a new passion embrace me. I would keep the ring safe and avenge Frodo's death, or die trying.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two: Aftershock**

No matter how many times a warrior sees a comrade fall in battle, he is never as prepared as he thinks he is when he faces the situation again. I'm no exception to this rule. Even as I held Frodo's limp body in my arms, I began to wonder if the victory we had won was worth the price we had paid. Was the freedom of Gondor, the kingdom I loved so dearly, worth the great losses Middle Earth had endured?

"I will make certain that it is," I whispered, as if Frodo could still hear me. "I will see Sauron brought down to his knees and the glory of Gondor restored. Middle Earth will be purged of its plague of vile creatures for all time. On this I swear," I took Frodo's sword from his hand and placed the blade on my own. Blood trickled in small droplets onto the hobbit's chest. Soon the cut had stopped bleeding and I returned Sting to its rightful place. The only thing left to do was to wait for the rest of the fellowship to find me in the darkness.

"Mr. Frodo!" Sam's cry jolted me out of the dreams I had drifted into. For a moment, I could not remember where I was. Then I glanced down at the body I still held and my memories rushed back. Sam's cries drew nearer and I knew he would soon find me.In a little whileI could see his silhouette rapidly approaching. He must have recognized the body in my arms, for I could see his eyes grow wide as he drew nearer.

"Mr. Frodo!" he shouted, praying that his master still lived. He fell to his knees beside me, his eyes begging. "Boromir, is he . . ." the Halfling couldn't bear to finish his sentence, so he just looked at me as if I could change what had passed. I didn't want to answer the question that filled his brown eyes with tears, but I knew I had to.

"I'm sorry, Sam," was all I could say. The hobbit collapsed in despair into my lap, clinging to the body of his master. Tears flowed unabashed from his eyes, like a wild river that would not cease. Soon the rest of the fellowship gathered, following the sound of Sam's sobs. One by one, they learned of the passing of the Ringbearer. Merry stood in shocked silence, staring at the body and allowing the pain of his loss to sink into his innocent eyes. Hiding his wounds, he made his way to console Sam, his own tears soaking his face. A moment later, Pippin arrived. The look on his face as he beheld the lifeless ringbearer was one of indescribable disbelief and horror. Seconds later, he collapsed in tears, so like to those he had shed at Gandalf's passing in Moria. No doubt this parting was the worse of the two, for he had known Frodo ever since his first breath. As if it pained him to move, he crawled over to the other Hobbits, hiding himself from the body.

"There you are, Halflings . . . " Gimli's comment was left hanging as he gasped at the sight. "It cannot be!" he exclaimed, his voice bearing the tears his eyes refused to shed. Behind him, Legolas uttered something in the elven tongue and bowed respectfully to our fallen comrade. Through the entire affair I had held Frodo close in my arms. Part of me was still hoping his breath would resume and the life would return to him, but I knew this hope was in vain. The fellowship of the ring would have to continue the journey without the ringbearer who had been appointed by the council.

By the time Aragorn arrived, he had a good conception of what had come to pass. His face was serious as he came into view and I could guess that his thoughts were with the ring. At the very thought of it, I seemed to hear whispers in my head. One of them spoke of the approaching fall of Gondor, while others hissed in the dark tongue. Before I realized what I was doing, the ring was drawn from my pocket. I felt the power inside the band, the power that could save Gondor. In the palm of my hand I possessed the ability to defeat Sauron himself, yet Elrond and Gandalf had swayed the entire council into a desire to destroy it. They wanted to destroy the single possibility in which the survival of Middle Earth lay. What of them when the dark lord reclaimed the ring and extended his hand to conquer the world? The wizards and elves could sail beyond the sea and forsake the remainder of Middle Earth to battle Sauron. If any of their advice went ill and the land fell into darkness, it would not be their concern. The rest of us had to find a way to counter the darkness. If the world of man were tobe saved, our best chance for freedom lay between my fingers.

"Boromir," I heard a voice whimper. It seemed to ring in my ears and sent a shiver down my spine. I knew its sound, yet I did not recognize it. The sound echoed in my mind. It seemed to fill the world, calling only my name. Before my eyes I saw the glory of Gondor restored. The white tree of the king bloomed gloriously against the brilliant blue sky. It seemed that I looked off into the East from the tower of Ecthalion. My father and brother stood beside me, both of them gazing admiringly at me. Then they glanced proudly at the eastern horizon and I saw that the land was empty. Cirith Ungol and Barad-dur no longer marred the sky and the fires of Mount Doom were at peace. Then I felt a cold object in my hand: the ring. I floated away from Gondor and once again found myself on the slopes of Amon Hen, holding Frodo's body. The ring was nearly on my finger, but remained hidden within my cloak.

"Boromir!" Aragorn summoned me. His blue eyes looked suspiciously into mine. "What do you have to say?"

"Frodo has been slain. He entrusted me with the ring in his last breath." I could say no more, for tears covered my face. I bowed my head to veil this fact. I could see that Aragorn was not pleased with Frodo's decision. His eyes were furious. He thought the ring should be his just because he was the heir of Isildur, but fate had other plans.

"So, we go to Gondor," the Ranger spat. For a moment, I thought he would draw his sword, but it did not come to that. The angry light vanished from his eyes and everyone seemed to relax a little. Legolas said something to him in the elven tongue and Aragorn nodded in agreement.

"Let us not leave our beloved comrade here to be eaten by scavengers. We will burn his remains so that he may yet return to the Shire. Boromir, Gimli, fetch some wood. The Hobbits will gather kindling."

"A fire would attract the enemy," I objected.

"What would you prefer we do? To bury him in this vile place would be dishonorable and we can spare none of the boats," he countered. Seeing no alternative, I rose to go fetch the wood. Fate blessed us and the servants of the enemy did not approach during the ceremony. Sam lit the wooden altar that was to be Frodo's final bed. We all watched with tears streaming down our faces as the flame rose and approached the body. The sparks lapped at the feet and then gradually consumed the legs as the blaze about his body grew. The flames danced about, reflecting in our damp eyes. I could hardly bear to watch as they played about on his fair face. He looked peaceful, lying there, and once again I found myself wishing desperately that he would awaken. My hopes flickered out forever as the fire devoured the corpse. In a short time, all that remained were the ashes of what had once been the ringbearer, Frodo Baggins.


End file.
